Элла Франк - Try

Tate didn’t want to cause a scene, but he was really getting sick of people getting in his face today about having slept with Logan. Then again, it wasn’t like he hadn’t known the man had been with—

Well, in this bar, nearly everyone.

On the other hand, Tate supposed, it wasn’t any of his business what Logan had done in the past, just who he was doing presently.

“Listen. I don’t care about anything he did before. I’m not interested.”

Amelia shifted and placed her palm on the counter by his where she touched her fingers to his hand. “I didn’t know you swung that way.”

“I don’t,” was Tate’s immediate answer, which he then realized was ludicrous, considering what she’d just seen and probably heard in the back.

“Oh, I think you do. It’s okay. I think it’s hot, and hey, if anyone is going to make you try anything, it would be Logan. He’s very persuasive.”

Tate swallowed, remembering similar words coming from Logan’s mouth about trying things. Tate knew he was way beyond having tried something though, and he was now in the doing portion.

“I need a cigarette.”

Amelia laughed at him. “I didn’t know you smoked.”

“I don’t unless I’m drinking.”

“Or having an anxiety attack?” she quipped.

Tate squeezed his eyes shut and then opened them to look down at the petite blonde in front of him. Why am I not attracted to her? Life would be so much easier.

“Don’t feel bad. He’s hard to resist,” she comforted.

Yeah, isn’t that the truth. Logan was impossible to resist, and as Tate looked over his shoulder at the guy and found him looking right back, he knew that his brain had moved beyond the physical. He had feelings for Logan—emotions that were going to make things messy, tangled, and beyond complicated.

Amelia then broke into his thoughts by confusing him. “You are, too, you know.”

Huh? What was she saying?

“Hard to resist. All the girls here wanted you. And who got you? Fucking Logan. Someone we never even considered.”

Tate shifted where he was standing, slightly uncomfortable from knowing that everyone had been watching him and probably still was.

Amelia lifted an arm to pat his shoulder. “You better go get him another drink. He hasn’t taken his eyes off you, and I’m starting to feel like he’s going to jump over the bar and rip off my hand.”

“Don’t you think you’re being a little dramatic?”

Tate pivoted around to face Logan, who was aiming daggers at Amelia, and then she caressed his fucking arm, making Logan’s eyes narrow.

Amelia laughed. “Um, no. Considering he warned me off you earlier in the hall, I’m pretty sure I’m reading him right, which is interesting. He’s never given a shit before.”

Tate’s head snapped around to her and he glanced at the hand massaging his arm and then up to the mischievous grin on her face. “He did what?”

“He didn’t tell you?” she asked, finally removing her hand. “When you came out and saw us, he was telling me to back off.”

For some reason, that piece of information made Tate hot as hell even though he figured it probably should have annoyed him. Distracted by his own thoughts, he told Amelia he’d be back, and made his way toward the man at the other end of the bar.

Logan’s eyes were fixed on Tate as his long legs ate up the space behind the bar. When he stopped in front of him and placed his hands on the counter, Logan lifted his face and waited.

“Want something?” Tate asked without any kind of greeting.

“I don’t remember service being so sloppy in here.”

“Sloppy?”

“No greeting, no smile, no how’s-your-day-going.”

Tate crossed his arms and aimed a fake smile his way. “Hi, how’s your day going?”

Logan pushed his tongue into his cheek and glanced over Tate’s buttoned black shirt and vest. Yes, he thought, Tate looked fucking spectacular on his knees in front of me. I was right—that pompous vest looked even better from above.

“Fantastic as of thirty minutes ago when—”

“Don’t.”

“No? Why not?” Logan quipped. “I thought you might need a reminder.”

“I don’t. I remember it all perfectly, but you left out a few details.”

Sitting back on the stool, Logan frowned. “Did I?”

“Yes, you did.”

Logan tracked Tate’s hand as he pulled the white towel from the back of his pants and started to wipe down the bar top. Ah, that nervous gesture. I love his tells. “What did I leave out?”

Tate bent in closer than even Logan would have expected. “You get just as jealous as I do. You just hide it better.”

Logan’s jaw ticked as he thought about Amelia touching Tate, not knowing what she had been saying. He had to admit, he was one hundred percent jealous. That was something he’d never been in his life—until Tate. Logan didn’t want her anywhere near him, not while he was his.

“So?”

“Oh, so it’s okay if it’s you but not me? Not so funny now, is it?”

“It was never funny. I’ve worked hard to get what I want. She can take a fucking hike if she thinks she’s going to get a piece of it.”

Tate placed a steadying palm on the bar, as his mouth parted slightly. He sucked in a quick breath and then he let it out, confessing, “I don’t know why that’s so hot, but it is.”

“Don’t you see, Tate? She’s just like me. The ones who resist us are the ones we want the most.”

“So, this is just a game to you?”

Logan thought about that for a second, and then he reached out to the hand on the bar. “Maybe at first, but not now. It stopped being a game the night you showed up at my front door.”

Logan removed his hand and sat back, while Tate reached up to rub his cheek.

“So, let’s talk. Tell me something I don’t know about you,” Logan said, deciding to move to a topic that was more comfortable.

Tate lifted a shoulder but played along. “I hate mushrooms.”

Not expecting that, Logan started laughing. “Okay, I’ll keep that in mind for pizza night.”

“And anchovies,” Tate added.

“Who likes anchovies?”

“I don’t know, but I hate those salty, fishy things.”

“Noted. Anything else?” Logan asked.

Tate took the empty glass in front of him and put them with the other dirty ones. When he turned back, he asked, “What night is pizza night?”

Logan thought about that and decided he really liked the idea of a regular date night with Tate. “I’m thinking Sundays.”

“Sundays, huh? I’m free on Sunday nights.”

“Yeah?”

Logan noted the way Tate’s eyes darkened, and he felt all kinds of excited at the thought of spending the night with this man again.

“Yeah.”

“Then, you should definitely come.” Unable to look away, Logan was enjoying this relaxed side of Tate.

“Well, that could certainly be part of the evening, I’m sure.”

Logan hadn’t even caught himself on that, but as Tate threw the pun back at him, he felt his anticipation heighten at the flirtatious grin crossing the lips he was now imagining against his own.

“Careful, Tate.”

“Why’s that?”

“You think you’re safe because I’ve already tasted you. You think I’m just sitting here, but you’re wrong, I’m constantly imagining it. All it did was make me want you more. I’m about two seconds away from hauling you across the bar. So, back the fuck up unless you’re ready for that.”

Tate backed away, eyeing Logan’s mouth. “Well, everyone I work with will know by the end of this shift anyway.”

“Does that bother you?”

Tate thought that over and realized that it didn’t bother him. It was actually a relief that he wouldn’t have to be the one to tell people. They would just know, and if they were brave enough to ask him about it, then he’d deal with it then. Most people though never actually said what they were thinking to your face. It was usually gossip behind your back, and he didn’t give a shit about that.

“No. It doesn’t.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really. I don’t care what they think. I hardly know them.”

 “That’s true,” Logan agreed. “What about people you do know?”

Tate crossed his arms. “Like?”

“Like your family.”

Tate didn’t understand. Logan had balked at the very mention of family just the night before. Why is he bringing it up now? “Family is different.”

“Is it?”

Tate got the impression that Logan was annoyed with that answer.

“Yes, it is. Anyway, you’re the one who made it very clear that families aren’t an issue right now.”

Logan’s mouth twisted into a smile that Tate suspected was fake. “You’re right.”

“Am I?” He was slightly confused by the turn in the conversation.

“Yep. Can I have another drink?”

“Why? Do you need one?” Tate asked, reaching under the bar for a glass.

“Maybe.”

The usually calm and put-together man now looked…bothered.

“Logan?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you want me to tell my family?”

Logan’s eyes rose to his own, and Tate felt his heart thudding in his chest.

“Not really my decision, is it?”

Tate put his hands back on the bar and pushed his face in close to Logan’s, not giving a fuck who was looking. “No, it isn’t, but I think you want me to tell them.”

When Logan didn’t say a word, Tate knew he was right on the money.